


A Rose by Any Other Name

by Astlyr23



Series: Mithril Rose [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astlyr23/pseuds/Astlyr23
Summary: What if there had been a 6th wizard sent to Middle-Earth. Follow her adventures with Bilbo
Series: Mithril Rose [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740448





	A Rose by Any Other Name

It was a pleasant morning in the Shire, the perfect weather for tea and second breakfast outside in the garden. I had chosen to do just this and brought out a plate laden with biscuits, jam, honey and a delightful herbal tea. I noticed Bilbo in the front garden and thought he might like some second breakfast as well.

Bilbo sat in the front garden smoking a pipe of Old Toby, best pipe weed in the Shire, if not all of Middle Earth. The pleasant spring sunshine warming his bones. He looked so peaceful, these years after his mother and father’s deaths had been traumatic and stressful, he deserved peace.

“Bilbo, would you like so tea?” I ask warmly, bending slightly to offer the treats. He opens his eyes after a second, savoring the flavor of the smoke. “It is my special blend.”

Bilbo gives me a warm smile.

“Thank you, Rose.” A sort of humming distracts us from the ritual of Second Breakfast.

A grey lump of a man is walking up the path toward us. He wears a tall grey pointy hat, carrying an odd walking stick. My eyes narrow slightly, this ought to be good.

“Good Morning.” Bilbo calls out from the bench. The man takes notice wandering over to converse with Bilbo, he does not spare glance towards me.

What follows has to be the inanest conversation on the meaning of “good morning” that had ever been spoken. Of all the time I have spent with Hobbits, all the mind-numbing teas and politeness did not compare to this ongoing conversation.

Luckily, the conversation steers towards adventures and how they make one late for dinner. The grey man leaves after Bilbo abruptly leaves, pretending to be interested in the mail. Once Bilbo is out of sight the man carves a rune in Bilbo’s freshly painted door. It is only then that he acknowledges my presence.

“So, this is where you have been.” I glance up from my cup of tea, wishing it were something stronger at the moment.

“Yes, it is. I happen to like it here, please don’t go and ruin it.” I chime back. “Be that as it may, it is nice to see you.”

“It is nice to see you too; you look lovely as ever.” He sweet talks, smiling as he does. I snort.

“And you look as old as ever. What scheme are you planning?” He looks hurt at my words, briefly.

“Scheme, I never scheme, I merely give slight nudges.” He responds.

“So that’s what we are calling it these days.” I respond in kind, thinking of all the nudges he has given over the years. “Regardless, whatever you have planned for Bilbo I hope those plans now include me.”

He gives me a knowing look.

“But of course, my dear.” At that he leaves the garden with a flurry. I stand up and rush inside.

Bilbo looks at me oddly when I stride back into the hole, muttering the entire time.

“He is up to something, I know it. I swear to Eru if I have to move again, I will have his head.” I rush around putting together everything for every possible scenario.

“Rose, are you alright?” Bilbo asks from the doorway of my room. “You have been running around like crazy for the last 3 hours. You have missed Elvensies and Lunch entirely. Was it something Gandalf said? I know he can be odd.”

At the mention of his name I stop what I am doing, hands stilling on my pack. I turn to look at my gentle friend.

“No, it wasn’t anything he said.” I reply slowly, trying to find the words I needed. “It is a feeling, a feeling of something just on the horizon, like when you can feel spring in your soul before winter is over.”

Bilbo nods, I know he does not understand why I do what I do, but he respects me enough to listen to and heed my words.

“Then I shall leave you to it. It is baked fish for dinner tonight, hope that is alright.” I smile back at him.

“Of course, you know how much I love your baked fish, roast potatoes with it?” Bilbo lightens at the mention of roast potatoes. If there is one thing, I have learned in my time with the Hobbits it is that they love food, especially potatoes, and love talking about food even more. Bilbo slips out of the doorway leaving me to my thoughts and packing.

Once I am sure he has left for the market I dash to his bedroom. Normally I do not intrude on his privacy, yet something nags at me to do this. I hastily pack all the essentials he might need on a journey. As I turn to leave an odd thought strikes me. I return to the pack, adding a few handkerchiefs for good measure.

I am a bundle of nervous energy the rest of the evening, darting glances at the door every five minutes. When the sun sinks low and the stars shine in the heavens, I relax a little. Bilbo indeed roasted potatoes with the fish tonight. We are just about to tuck in when there is a knock on the door. Bilbo flashes a look of utter loathing at the offending portal.

“I shall get it, eat your dinner Bilbo.” I push my chair away from the table, trying my hardest not to scrape it against the wooden floors.

I open the green door, about to tell the person on the other side just how rude it was to interrupt dinner when my voice catches in my throat. There stands a ghost from the past, Dwalin. He looks me up and down.

“Mrs. Baggins?” That shocks me out of my stupor.

“Rose, who was at the door.” I can hear Bilbo shout from kitchen. Before I can answer either him or Dwalin, Dwalin brushes past me, going straight towards Bilbo.

Fifteen minutes later find both Bilbo and I staring openly at Dwalin as he shovels our dinner into his face. Sweet Eru I had forgotten about Dwarven manner, or lack thereof. Dwalin did say a few things to Bilbo but I was still too shocked to hear anything he said. A second knock comes from the door, Bilbo and I ignore it.

“That’ll be the door.” Says Dwalin between mouthfuls of fish. I narrow my eyes slightly at him, then briskly walk out of the kitchen to get the door.

It seems fate has more surprises in store for me tonight, for there stands yet another face I never thought I would see again, Balin.

Unlike Dwalin, Balin bows.

“Mistress Baggins I presume. Is your husband at home?” Balin asks. Neither of them recognized me. Instead of correcting him I show him the way to the kitchen. Dwalin had finished both plates by the time I returned, I could see Bilbo was fuming over the loss of good food.

Dwalin and Balin exchange Dwarvish greeting, complete with the headbutt.

The rest of the night passes in a blur, twin princess, a pile of dwarves upon the doorstep and one pesky wizard to top it all off. My peaceful night turned into a Dwarrow party, Bilbo’s poor pantry was decimated, all except his prize-winning tomatoes. It was hard not to laugh at their antics with his silverware and china though. If there is one thing, I missed about Dwarven parties it is the singing. Bilbo glares at me when I giggle and clap along with the song.

“Sorry Bilbo, but it is catchy.” I apologize as he rushes into the kitchen to make sure none of his mother’s West farthing china was broken. There it sat, perfectly clean and perfectly intact. “See Bilbo, they didn’t blunt the knives.”

The dwarves give a hearty laugh at my joke. Probably the loudest knock of the night sounds through the Smiale. I go to it, Bilbo still dressing down Gandalf for the intrusion of 12 dwarves into his home. My mood has considerably lightened once I had reached the front door. I smiled as I opened it, ghosts be damned.

The mirth in my eyes dies the instant they meet with the deepest sapphire in Middle Earth. Silver streaked hair that had once been like raven’s wings. Worry lines had replaced laugh lines, many of which I had created.

Standing before me was Thorin Oakenshield, Lord of Silver Fountains, King of Erebor.


End file.
